


More than a Drunken Fling

by FrogSpawn



Series: Septiplier/Danti One-Shots [7]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Casual Sex, Degradation, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, No Aftercare, One Night Stands, Painful Sex, Post-Divorce, Sexual Tension, Slut Shaming, Smut, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 00:37:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20416994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrogSpawn/pseuds/FrogSpawn
Summary: Anti is sad, lonely and just slightly drunk. The comfort he has for his recent divorce is whisky. Maybe a fuck.And the perfect candidate just walked in.





	More than a Drunken Fling

The atmosphere was suffocating. Overwhelmed by the pungent odour of mingling bodies and alcohol, almost every surface sticky to the touch, lights blazing above in a range of unflattering colours and music blaring so loudly through an old stereo system that it was filled with static. The chatter of the crowd was more of a background noise to a certain demon, who sat at the bar, with several shot glasses empty in front of him and a glittering piece of jewelry in his lithe hands.

Tossing the pendant in his hands, Anti's vibrant emerald gaze fixated on the intricate carvings of gold and bronze that swirled around the jade orb. She'd said that it complimented his eyes when she gave it to him for their 2 year anniversary. Even now, the way that the glaring lights reflected off of the polished designs, or it could have been the spindly chain that pooled in his palm, made his thoughts turn towards her, and her blinding smile. Her warm cocoa eyes that couldn't hide her emotions, unable to control as they flashed behind the inviting pigment. How even though she solely wore tank tops and booty shorts she was still a furnace, so it made it so much more lovely to cuddle up to her in the dead of winter. Or her pleasantly deep voice echoed throughout their spartan sitting room when they whispered to each other, ignoring the world outside as it was submerged in darkness, even the stars outside twinkling and chatting at their subjects below didn't match how brighter her smile was.

However his prominent memory of her now was how sharp and venomous her words were, how much they hurt when they pierced his heart, or how much her footsteps echoed throughout the hall of their apartment building as she stormed through the front door with her possessions packed in a bag.

"Yo-youu- you're just- I can't believe you! You're such a bastard, such a goddamn bastard! Go fuck yourself, you son a bitch! I hate you, I hate you, never come near me again you fucking freak! No wonder that your parents hated you!"

"Marcy..."

He hadn't realised that he was gripping the necklace any harder until there was a muffled crunch. Opening his palm, the shattered pieces of metal and powdered jade sifted through his fingers like fine sand, like an hourglass and with each second that ticked by another piece of his happiness dripped from his grasp.

Then he snapped out of it.

Why was he brooding over some chick who left him? He was fine with her being gone, he had been single for years, surviving on his own, and being incredibly happy. Granted, Jack was still around, not having married and moved back to Ireland with his wife, but he was fine on his own. Right? He other people. Not being able to name any off of the top of his head didn't mean anything. He was fine. 

All he needed was a drink. Several drinks. A bottle of whisky. No, scratch that. He needed a good, hard, solid fuck. With a dude. Preferably a muscular, tall male with violent and sadistic tendencies.

He scanned the room with mismatched eyes, eyelashes fluttering as the door opened and allowed a surge of frigid air to rush into the sweltering environment. Drawn to the newcomer, Anti exhaled slightly when they turned out to be a short girl with fiery ginger hair clinging to the arm of a well-built man with jet black hair, wearing tight jeans that made his thighs look fit as all hell. His darkened orbs met Anti's for a second before Anti prepared to begin another scan, before pausing.

Why was he looking for someone else?

Returning to the spot that he had last seen him, the pair had moved, however it only took a few seconds to find the within the jostling crowd that began to stomp on the dance floor. He was sitting at a table by the window, eyes hard and face a mask of annoyance and irritation as the ginger groped his biceps, giving him a good angle to view her goods below her shirt. Studying the male more closely, Anti could see that he had scarlet irises and a very pale, almost grey complexion that made his coal-black locks pop even more and make the scarlet even more intense, as if he was staring into a whirlpool of blood and rose petals. Oddly pleasant imagery. Then there was his body. God, he was ripped. Muscles stretched the formal dinner jacket taught over his arms and shoulders, made the trousers so thin that he could almost see the silver, ageless skin below the fabric. And from the bulge in those inky trousers, he was definitely a subtle fuck for the demon.

Anti couldn't help but wander what a guy like that was doing spending time in the seedy shit hole that was the bar. Still, for whatever reason, he was glad that he had some luck in finding a good candidate for his needs.

As if noticing the intense gaze, their eyes met again. The room seemed to slow, or still completely, Anti wasn't sure, however all he knew was the air crackled like electricity and an undeniable heat surged through his body like a tidal wave. It was as if he was now hyper aware yet completely blind at the same time.

The man tensed, eyes flickering and darkening as if lit by a flame, before relaxing, a seductive smirk easily sliding onto his lips. It was as natural of a gesture as water running.

Anti was sure that he was making a fool of himself, but he couldn't manage to dispel the fog that invaded his thoughts and mind. He couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away, simply sitting and gawking - most likely unattractively - until a deep, sonorous chuckle rang clearly throughout the room, like the ringing of a bell.

By now Anti was sure that the rest of the room had frozen since all other sounds had stopped - the dull chatter, the rustling of clothes or gulping. The simple chuckle seemed to pierce the room in a way that Anti had never experienced before, a simple sound had never peeled away his control as this had. There were so many things that it did to him.

His vision blurred, the fire that was smouldering in his gut began to burn brighter, flames licking at his insides. Suddenly the man had a glass of whiskey with ice in his hand, taking a long, drawn out sip. The frosted glass was placed back on the table, if it ever was there Anti wasn't sure. However what he was sure of was as their eyes reconnected there was a unsaid question that lingered in the air like a thick fog.

"Anti."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, revealing rose of immaculate, slightly sharpened teeth. A devious glint shimmered in his eyes, as he inclined his head to the side.

"Dark."

The lighting made the shallow curves of his face almost pitch black, giving him a hollow, primal look. Desperation was visible in his expression as a tongue flickered over his plump lips, but Anti probably imagined it. He was imaging so much already.

"Your real name."

"I could say the same thing to you."

Anti's eyebrow quirked up, some of the dense block lifting in his mind so he was able to string words together properly and not sound like a caveman. Even with the slight slur in his words, they were sharp and clear, a blunt wit puncturing itself through them with a brute forcefulness, softened slightly by a selective intelligence.

"Fine, I'll guess. I like games. Besides, anything with you as the prize is worth playing." He disregarded the glare that was sent his way, continuing his speech, "A play on Dark. First two letters probably, and considering the tailoring on your suit, came from money, or earned it. A posh name with D and a as the first two letters."

Dark shifted in his seat and he raised his glass, draining the last dregs of amber from the glass before placing it back on the counter.

"Damien."

He grunted, "Shockingly good intuition and deduction for a skull-headed drunkard who never grew out of their emo phase."

"Really, that's all? You sound as if you are bickering with your older brother."

With another grunt, Dark stood, and stepped out of the compartment. His body was lean and buff, and each stride had a pronounced purpose, even each time he blinked seemed to be thought out, methodical. Calculated.

With an elegant spin, he was striding towards the door. When he sensed that Anti was still seated he paused, a heavy sigh escaped his glistening lips.

"I know what you want. What you like. What you need. You're as transparent as glass. I am willing to provide."

He began to move towards the door, without even turning to check that the demon was even standing. And without a second thought, or a moment of hesitation, Anti was stumbling behind him.

Even with Anti staggered behind him like a stoned teenager, Dark still didn't slow his pace. Shadows crept up to them, inviting them into a narrow alleyway, an offer which he seemed to like. Footsteps pounded against the exposed walls as they strode down the dark passage.

As Anti rounded the corner, Dark seemed as disappeared, melted into the darkness that surrounded them - even his glowing crimson eyes were not anywhere in sight. In fact, the air was deathly still, a silence brought on by fear inhabiting and unnerving every crevice of the damp alley. 

Something dripped down his back as he collided with brickwork. Awkward pieces of stone and metal were poking him in the back, probably breaking skin and allow the mould festering on them to penetrate his flesh. Even as a dull ache began to resound throughout his being due to the collision, his focus was on the frigid, icy hand that were pinning him to the slick wall. A familiar blazing red gaze was trained on his exposed collar bone, patrolling his clothed form. They had darkened to almost black, irises slit like a cats', overcast with a primal desire. A shudder ripped violently through his body as a fingertip, colder than ice, began to trace the bone, before settling on a vein. His blood was pulsating beneath his skin.

"This is a good look on you. Except you aren't defiled enough yet."

Razors nipped at the exposed pallid skin, drawing breathy whimpers from Anti. More moisture began to bead, sharp knives of pain trickling his nerve ending and setting them on fire as burning air was blasted onto the open wounds. He had to stifle a cry as it all began to swell in intensity.

The air was freezing him. The breath was melting his skin. The teeth, the pipes, the bricks, they were slowly embedding themselves in his body and tearing him apart. Even the darkness was an abyss, something darker than black, something more sinister than shadows and thicker than light. His throat was choked, only whimpers and whines managing to escape the blockage that stopped him from speaking. It seemed to egg Dark on as he dug his teeth deeper into the flesh. Pain was also spiraling to unbearable measures, unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

It was so sudden.

His head pounded. Marcy's laugh. Her soft, gentle kisses felt like acid on his skin. Her words were sweeter than honey, yet sharper than anything he had encountered. Dark's eyes were brooding, ominous with vicious intent hiding behind the cold, sensual exterior. His hands were calloused and harsh, not treating with any decency. He was causing such intense pain to shoot through Anti's body that dots of blinding white were spotting his vision.

Yet he craved Dark. Anti felt repulsed he had ever let that bitch touch him, speak or look at him. He was Dark's, and his alone, nothing would change him. He didn't know Dark, yet there was a sickening familiarity with him, as if they knew each other already. His mind hurt from trying to recall those memories.

No.

Stop.

It's too much.

I can't take it.

I feel like I'm dying.

All he could get out was a strangled choking noise, until it was cut off by a pair of icy lips. A tongue slithered into his mouth like a demented snake, exploring every single inch, spreading a bitter liquid around, a strange metallic sense tinting his taste. Something traced the waistband of his jeans and slid underneath the denim, grazing his bare hipbones before sinking lower.

The growl that left Dark's mouth made Anti dizzy.

"Of course, a slut like you would wear these little panties. Barely even cover you. I bet you enjoy it, don't you?"

The world was beginning to blur, colours blending together and all sounds merging to become one, except one. Dark's voice: gravelly with arousal, breathless with need and low with pleasure.

"Shit."

Torn fabric fluttered to the floor and a hard muscle prodded his fluttering entrance. There was no warning before it was inside.

It was similar to the shock of a bullet wound. First came the shock, numbness spreading into his body. And it swiftly divulged into agony. Ripping into the deepest crevices of his soul, diving into the darkest parts of his body. It made him dizzy. Flames licked at his lower body, melting off the skin and dissolving the flesh, being coloured by the black goop that poured from the wounds. Not just that - his throat hurt. Anti hadn't even realized he was screaming until Dark grunted lowly in his ear for him to shut up, and then proceeded to shove four fingers down his throat.

Light-headed, Anti began to choke, body convulsing at the punishing pace set by his dominant. His words of mercy were lost around the long digits which massaged his throat, coming out in short, high-pitch gurgles.

Suddenly, there was a searing liquid dripping from his empty ass, and he was slumped on the floor, alone. Dark was already out of sight.


End file.
